Harry Potter and the Horrifying SelfAwareness
by JollyHooligan
Summary: Harry Potter is about to make his move on the woman he loves when the unthinkable happens!


**Harry Potter and the Horrifying Self-Awareness**

Feeling at once emboldened and abashed, Harry embraced Ginny Weasely right there - before the giant suspicious box made less suspicious by a gaudy red cloth cover.

"Oh, Harry." She tittered, fearing they would be found.

"It's alright, Ginny. No one will find us in the room of requirement, for what I require right now is privacy." Harry crooned, raising his left eyebrow like a young Jim Carrey.

Ginny, all upons, leaned in for another kiss with closed eyes. She had heard from silly girl gossip that it tasted better with your eyes closed, and Harry had certainly had steak and kidney pie for supper. Harry, about to oblige, felt a prickling on his neck. After a few moments of awkward waiting, Ginny opened her eyes to see Harry facing away from her, his body suddenly tense.

_Oh God_. She thought. _It can't be that the rumors about him and my dear brother are true?_

She shook her head. No, now was not the time for self-doubt. Plain though she was, she found a quiet certainty that her womanly charms could change that. Should it be true. ...a simple incantation of homo-reverso would make amends...

Ginny need not have worried, nor had any such forcefully normative thoughts, had she any idea of the excruciating beast/literary device used to convey Harry's latent sexuality.

"Ginny," Harry breathed softly, still not facing her, "do you see that?"

Ginny, fearing some dark magic was upon them, looked wildly about the room.

"Where Harryy?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, "Where is it?"

Harry turned to face her. "It?" He asked incredulously. "Can you not see them?"

Ginny, confused as the hereditary condition inherited by all Weasleys in some form or other, shook her head. "No Harry. I don't see anything. What do you mean?"

"They're right there!" Harry pointed with his flailing girl arm toward empty space after which stood a very solid wall. "Hundreds of them! Just sitting there in the dark...watching us! They're even eating - the sick bastards!"

"Harry, I don-" Ginny started backing away from him, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

"Don't tell me you can't see them! They're right there!" Harry's motions became more erratic as his panic grew. "They're just watching and eating! Watching and eating! How long have they been doing this?" Harry grabbed his own hair roughly, twisting his head from side to side.

Having spent the greater part of his childhood inside a dark cupboard, he had found his arrival to wizarding world and the fame therein difficult to learn to cope with. But this! This was unbearable.

"Harry, I..." Ginny continued stepping backwards, her eyes wide and her mouth flapping emptily like a fear-soiled Ron.

Turning on her heel, she fled from the Room of Requirement with her hands flailing in synchronization from side to side with each footfall. With one last bewildered look at the people watching him, Harry followed suit to escape those eyes.

But as soon as he emerged in the hallway, there they were again. Some looked confused, some angry, some amused and he could hear whispering.

"What IS this?"

"I sure as hell hope the director had a good reason for this."

"I want my money back."

Harry, reeling and hyperventilating, collapsed to the ground holding his knees and curling around them like a tight little ball. He lay there for hours until Ron, Hermione, and Ginny managed to find him.

"Harry," Hermione leaned down, putting a comforting hand of his shoulder, "Harry, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you, Hermione." Harry sighed, sitting up.

"What's all this then?" Ron gazed down at his friend in concern.

"I don't suppose you can see them either, can you?" Harry looked morosely at his feet.

"...No Harry. We can't." Hermione confirmed his fears. "But remember the chamber of secrets!"

"That's right, Harry. You could hear things no one else could." Ron tried to back up the woman he hoped would one day pity him enough to marry him.

"I see hundreds of people just watching me." Harry explained.

"That's it?" His friends looked incredulous.

"Yes. I thought they were perhaps some kind of magic residue, but they were there when I left the room. Then I assumed they were watching me out of boredom, but when I lay on the floor for hours without moving they didn't leave. They sit there still, watching me with that manic half-interest no matter how boring or stupid I act!" He trembled, fearing this fixture would be far more enduring than he had imagined.

"This is serious, Harry. Here's what we'll do: you will ignore them and go about your life and the rest of us will scour the library to find the answer to your problem." Hermione nodded, her own confidence outstripped by that of her voice.

"A-alright." And it was settled.

But it wasn't alright. They were always there and they never stopped watching. At supper, at night, in the lou, in the shower - especially in the shower! - and even through Professor Binns' most boring lectures. Under this constant scrutiny, Harry's ideas of privacy were radically changing and his ability to distinguish the eyes of those watching him and the eyes of the people in his daily life was completely disappearing. Fellow Gryffindors were irked and disgusted by his new bathroom habit of leaving doors open and the indelicacy of his nightly routine. As his desensitization grew, so did his penchant for sleeping in the nude and wandering about the common room in such a state.

"Harry, PLEASE!" Hermione shielded her view on one such occassion. "With few exceptions, no one wants to see that!"

"I hardly see how that matters, as practically everyone has seen my penis by now!" Daniel...I mean Harry retorted.

* * *

Three hours later the movie ended. The crowd, tired and cranky, dispersed.

"I hardly see how that was rating-appropriate." An irate woman muttered.

"It was too long and the director took too many liberties." Her male companion added.

Their mutual friend and obvious third wheel shrugged.

"At least it was better than the third one."

As the last of the people left, Harry stared after them. The lifeless eyes of Voldemort's head glared from the matle above his fireplace where he had set it on display. A healthy fire with hints of cinnamon and clove burned merrily as he sat down to warm himself. The gentle glow of the flames reflected off of his tinfoil hat as he nudged his latest collection of plastic bags underneath the soiled armchair he sat in. Although his wish had finally been granted, Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness without all those eyes. Brushing that feeling aside, he reached for some parchment to send Ron and Hermione the good news. As he scrawled away happily with his quill, he failed to notice three souls who were an hour early to get good seats...


End file.
